


Iratzes; Great Tool, No?

by A_Tired_Writer



Category: The Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt!Will, Hurt/Comfort, Will misses Jem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 05:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20003146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Tired_Writer/pseuds/A_Tired_Writer
Summary: Will Herondale, Head of the Institute, thought it would wake up something lost in him to go hunting demons.Yeah, no.





	Iratzes; Great Tool, No?

**Author's Note:**

> [TUMBLR](https;//i-just-like-books-man.tumblr.com): @heronstairs2014 said: If you’re taking TSC prompts, I’d love to see a story where Will gets pretty badly injured and just ignores it and doesn’t tell anyone until it’s almost too late. If you don’t want to write it it’s fine but I just thought I’d ask!

_Iratzes_ were great. Truly. They kept you from certain death and took away a great deal of pain. Of course, the Rune had its limits, and if you were already on death’s door, well—you were screwed. No amount of angelic healing was about to yank you back from the unknown abyss.

That being said, Will appreciated the _iratzes_ for what they were: a quick save, a brief lifeline, something to not spit upon. But when your arm nearly got chopped off, and there was only enough time to apply one _iratze_ , you shouldn’t be expected to act chipper. That was simply unjust.

Will, with a fresh wound burning unhappily on his arm, acted chipper regardless. If Jem was still here, if Jem was still Jem, he would have called Will out on his insanity. Too bad Jem was making friends with skeletons.

Will’s arm was burning. He couldn’t fathom why; no demon blood had gotten on him yet, and a cut as shallow as the one along his forearm shouldn’t have hurt that bad. Even if he’d been at this for hours, Will’s training had given him quite the endurance. This shouldn’t have been a problem.

When he turned around, however, he saw a cut on the grotesque body of the demon, dripping ichor as it chased him.

“Shit.”

He stopped dead, drawing out his seraph blade with the name of an angel, and, in a flourish, jammed it through the demon’s jaw. The blade shone like a beacon through the inky mess of flesh and ichor. The demon gave one last cry of anguish, slightly inhibited by the blade stuck in its mouth, and disappeared.

Will’s arm, the one that had driven the blade into his opponent, was now in searing, agonizing pain. When he looked closer, he saw it; he’d been wrong to say no ichor had gotten into his cut, before—now there was more, and Will’s vision was swimming in colours around the edges.

Now, this would usually be the part where Jem cussed him out, threatened to throw him to the ducks, all while dragging himself and Will back to the Institute. Jem would have demanded Will keep talking, so as not to pass out on the street for some poor bloke with the Sight—or, God forbid, a demon—to find.

So, Will talked to himself. Talked as if Jem were still by his side, made a note to himself that Tessa would be shunned from the Institute if Will did not make it back, that Charlotte would have his head for abandoning said Institute because he decided to feel like himself again.

God, Jem had only been gone a week or so and Will was already too much of a disaster to hunt demons on his own. How pathetic.

He couldn’t recall just how he made it to the Institute, but he did; he rung the bell and collapsed onto the ground, chest heaving and arm burning with icy-hot pain. Demon blood in cuts was, apparently, no joke. Will thought he should tell the others.

“ _Will!_ ”

Tessa. Tessa, Tess, his Tessa.

Will finally closed his eyes.

When he opened his eyes again, Will saw a face he’d thought quite a lot about before keeling over from pain.

“Jem,” he whispered hoarsely.

Another familiar face was in the room, brown skin and elegant hair seeming out of place for the infirmary.

“Magnus. How are you on this fine evening?”

“Tired of saving you from yourself, for one.”

“Always a pleasure. I’ll give you my first born.”

“Don’t bother,” Magnus said with a wave. He gave Will a charming smile before leaving the room.

Will looked back to Jem. The silver of the _yin fen_ had faded even more, leaving behind a glimmering black for his eyes and hair that should have been on a greying old man. But, despite that, this was still his Jem. Will refused to accept anything otherwise.

_I should kill you myself._

“Doesn’t that go against the whole Silent Brother idea? It would suck if our doctors started killing us. Seems counterproductive.”

 _You nearly_ died _, William._

Will flushed with embarrassment, though if you asked him, he would say it was the exertion from the pain. “If it’s any consolation, that wasn’t the plan.”

 _Did you_ have _a plan, Will!?_

Being yelled at by a Silent Brother was somewhat of an experience. And an oxymoron.

“Jem—”

_I cannot bear the thought of leaving you here if you’re going to be so careless with your life._

“James, will you sit with me?”

Jem narrowed his eyes in a very non-Silent Brother manner. Will relished in that thought—his Jem was still there, still within his reach.

Jem sat beside him silently, propping his legs up on the bed elegantly.

“Can the other Brothers hear what you’re saying?”

_Not if I don’t want them to._

Will nodded. He shifted—he had to hold back a gasp of pain—and rested his head on Jem’s lap.

“I’m sorry.”

Jem didn’t display any shock. Instead, he placed his hand on Will’s head. _Why?_

“I…do not think I’m quite used to you being gone, yet. I don’t resent you for doing what you did, and I will be able to live my life well knowing you’re out there somewhere, but.” The fabric of the parchment-coloured robes was rough against Will’s cheek. “My first demon was killed with you by my side. My last battle—tonight notwithstanding—was with you by my side, even if you were well on your way to being a Silent Brother. I—”

Will cut himself off before his throat closed too tightly to speak. He was being inexcusably selfish, saying these things to Jem, but they were true.

“It’s strange. It’s like part of me is unattainable. I can see it, but no matter what I do I cannot reach it.”

 _I will not be able to have your back every day, that is true. But you know that I will always come whenever you need me._ Jem’s lips stiffly shifted into a smile. _And when you don’t._

“My arm was tingly! I needed a Silent Brother to make sure it wouldn’t fall off!”

Jem began to card his musician’s hands through Will’s unruly hair. _I know._

The door banged against the wall violently, pulling a curse out of Will that made Jem huff with laughter.

“ _William Herondale!_ ”

“Tessa, my love, my angel,” Will breathed, “how are you?”

Will hadn’t noticed the wadded-up shirt in her hands. It shouldn’t have hurt, when it was thrown at him, but Tessa’s training with Gabriel Frightwood had given her even a good shirt-throwing arm.

“You _irresponsible_ —”

 _Tessa_ , Jem said softly, _I’ve already yelled at him._

Tessa seemed too shocked to continue her warpath to Will. “You? Yelling?”

Will nodded aggressively. “It was traumatizing.”

A glaring Tessa was horrifying. Will found himself even more in love. “You don’t get to make quips now, do you understand me?”

Tessa and Jem exchanged conversation that Will was much too tired to pick apart; he was happy enough to feel Tessa bracket his other side.

“Does he have enough _iratzes_?” Tessa whispered.

Jem shifted, presumably to grab Will’s stele from somewhere. Will’s arm was twisted gently, so Jem could get at the blank plane of skin to draw the Rune; their bond no longer existed, and having Jem draw the _iratze_ had no extra benefits, but it threw Will back to a time when Jem _would_ Mark him—and Will smiled. It was a little taste of his past, one he hadn’t known he’d missed.

“Thank you, Jem.”

_You do not have to thank me, Will. You know I would do anything for you._

He did. He did know that. Will’s arm still stung—not dulled by the extra _iratze_ —but with Tessa and Jem’s voices lulling him into a lovely sleep, the pain wasn’t too much of a concern.


End file.
